


At nightfall

by Tiffany1502



Category: Inazuma Eleven, Inazuma Eleven: Orion no Kokuin
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 01:55:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18488911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiffany1502/pseuds/Tiffany1502
Summary: Hiroto does not seem able to sleep, much to Haizaki's annoyance who shares his room. Fortunately, he leaves for an evening meeting as the night is the darkest.





	At nightfall

**Author's Note:**

> Hello~ I'm really happy to share this OS which takes place in the Orion timeline. I liked writting in english so much, with my previous OS, that I wanted to translate this one ! So I'm sorry it might not be perfect and I may have made some mistakes, but I hope you will like it :3 Please do not hesitate to correct if needed, I'll be very happy!
> 
> Please enjoy !

Despite the darkness of the night, at this late hour of the evening, most of the windows of the Inazuma Japan training camp building let appear lights, a sign that most of the players had not already fallen asleep.

And Haizaki and Hiroto's was no exception. All the lights were on, not to Hiroto's content, who was just turning over in his bed, slamming his tongue against his palate with each movement. Haizaki did not seem to care and continued reading his manga without paying any attention to his teammate.

Yet his sighs exasperated him to the highest degree, while the snap of tongue echoed in his mind and irritated him so much that he struggled to concentrate on his reading. Not to mention that unbearable creaky sound of bed every time he turned.

"Stop this!" he snapped with a sharp tone, straightening up.

Hiroto, who was facing him, his phone in his hands, just glared at him. Haizaki rolled his eyes at this reaction, before turning his attention back to his manga. He could have asked him what was happening, what was bothering him to the point he was not able to sleep. He could have, but he had to admit he did not care. Hiroto's state of mind was not his problem, and absolutely did no interest him either.

Although they shared this room, silent and implicit rules had been established: it was a neutral territory, in which everyone ignored the presence of the other. Somehow, this respect of his privacy by Haizaki not asking for anything was fine to Hiroto, who did not want to talk.

After seconds that seemed like an eternity, his phone - which he had just put on the bedside table - vibrated. Hiroto grabbed it sharply, before letting his pinkish look glide over the touch screen. Seeing the name that appears and the content of the message he had just received, he jumped up to leave his bed.

Haizaki let out a hiccup of surprise at this spontaneity and, glancing at his roommate, he realized that he was actually wearing his football uniform, revealing that he was not trying to sleep at all, while he was being unbearable.

Without a word, after having left his phone on the bedside table, Hiroto approached the door to leave the room. For a second, curiosity invaded Haizaki, whose eyes skidded to the smartphone left unattended. He did not care about his roommate's stories, but what could that message be, which he had obviously waited so long, and that made him go out to train at such a late hour?

After an internal struggle that was too long for his taste, the gray long-haired player finally let himself fall flat on his mattress and grab his manga again. In the end, he really did not care about Hiroto's feelings.

Outside, the air was surprisingly cold. A light breeze slipped on Hiroto's unclothed arms and flutter his curly locks. With a firm step, he crossed the main alley to join the football field, on which a familiar figure stood out in the darkness.

The faint glimmer of moonlight allowed him to see this red hair now familiar, as well as the ball that slid on the ground according to his movements and his race on the ground.

"Oï, why are you asking me out this late?"

Tatsuya stopped abruptly as he heard that tone of voice, both aggressive and calm, before a smile reached the corner of his lips.

"Ah, Hiroto, sorry. You were sleeping?"

As a response, he shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to admit that he was not, as he was almost reaching his side.

"And so? You told me you wanted to talk, I thought you may have forgotten."

"I started feeling a bit lonely, training like that every night," simply explained Tatsuya, a smile on the lips, giving him a gently pass.

Hiroto wrinkled his forehead slightly, somewhat confused, as his feet received the ball. The implication had not escaped him, of course, but the fact that he had not the slightest idea of his friend's nocturnal trainings disturbed him more.

"Do you come here every night?"

"Yeah, I'm trying a new hissatsu technique."

One foot on the ball, Hiroto smirked. So, Tatsuya was training alone in secret? There was no way for him to be overtaken, no one could be better than the God Striker. Even though how much he was aware of the red-hair's power, he would not lose. Against him more than anyone, he refused to lose.

"Oh, I see, so you needed help from the God Stri-"

He was cut in his sentence by Tatsuya's phone which started to ring, making him frown.

"Ah, I forgot that alarm," he let go simply by catching the object to silence him. "I wanted to time myself, I didn't think you would come so quickly. I'd almost believe you were waiting," he added, accompanying his words with a slight laugh.

"Don't say this kind of nonsense."

This small laugh, which escaped Tatsuya to die in the air, seemed to have been carried by the wind to come slide on Hiroto's skin and make him shudder. What an idiot, how could something so simple reach his heart with such ease? The darkness of the night did not allow him to distinguish these emerald eyes now familiar, yet he did not need it to imagine all the emotions that could cross them. To imagine them shine.

"Will the God Striker do me the honor of returning the ball?" he joked suddenly, snatching Hiroto from his thoughts.

The tone of challenge that accompanied his words had the merit of reviving Hiroto's competitiveness. A slight sneer escaped him and, after a quick glance at the ball, he raised his head to face Tatsuya.

"Then try to get it back."

It took only a fraction of a second for Tatsuya to rush in his direction. Hiroto stepped back slightly, drawing his precious into his gesture, before passing by his side and dribbling to get closer to the cages in his friend's back.

Without even realizing it, time passed, and soon the fatigue started to be felt. Their breaths, panting, mingled with the soothing sound of the nightlife. They did not need to talk; their game, their looks, that moment, everything was doing it for them.

"It's late," Tatsuya said suddenly, after consulting his smartphone. "Maybe we should go back..."

"Yeah..."

Yet they did not move. Lying back flat on the ground, head to head, none seemed to want to break that privileged moment. The air, more and more cold over time, contrasted with the heat of their body, after this physical effort, and finally forced them to move.

"Come on, don't get sick," said Tatsuya, feeling Hiroto shudder. "Stand up!"

He mixed the gestures with the word, and soon Hiroto had to do the same, not without having let out a groan. Pride prevented him from saying that he was right, but realizing all the emotions that were currently going through him, to the idea of ending this moment, was even more difficult.

In a surprising silence, full of meaning, they both joined the main building in which the rooms were. Ball under his arm, Tatsuya sometimes glanced discretely at his teammate, while his cheeks got more and more colored as they approached the corridor where their way separated.

"Well, bye," Hiroto said, turning to his left.

"Wait, Hiroto!"

He turned around, astonishment sketching his features and, without giving him time to understand anything, Tatsuya pressed his lips to his with delicacy. When he stepped back, a smile lit up his face, while a pinkish tinge colored his delicate cheeks.

"Good night, Hiroto," he murmured, before moving away in the opposite direction.

Hiroto froze for infinite seconds, only able to stammer a "yes". He blinked repeatedly, still uncertain as to what had happened. His heart had begun a mad race in his chest, and yet he stood there, in the corridor whose light eventually dies out in the absence of movement.

Haizaki was about to get up and finally turn off the light at that late hour when the door opened slowly. The silhouette of his roommate stood out in the doorway.

"You're coming late," he suddenly said in a weirdly moralistic tone, for someone who did not care. "Where—"

The words locked in his throat and his eyes widened when he saw Hiroto's face. A red hue, well highlighted by the light still lit, colored every part of his skin, as he walked hesitantly to his bed, without bothering to close the door - what Haizaki did, not without grumbling. Curiosity invaded him, to the point that he could not bring himself to turn off the light. His gaze rested on a Hiroto lying flat on his back, his eyes staring at the ceiling absently.

The curly-haired striker's hand slipped on his own face to rest on his burning cheek, before his fingers passed over his lips.

What had happened?

And why the hell did his heart keep racing this fast?


End file.
